promise to salivation.

pairings.finnick odair x fem!reader

about.finnick has been saving you ever since you’ve known him, but he can’t help you this time.

warnings. murder, does not follow original plot, foul language?

ricky rocks. this is kind of an L fic because it’s short, but i missed writing for bae.

“you were always the best. killing your brother like that on screen with no hesitation… indeed a performance, one of the best ever seen,” snow sat across from you, his voice calm and precise full of awe. “beautiful.”

he looked off, as if reminiscing about you on screen with blood coating your face and soaking your clothes from days on days of barbarism.

you clenched your jaw, pressing the tip of your tongue into the inside of your cheek as he spoke. your eyes meet the gravel ground of the greenhouse, thinking back to the hot nights and days that were filled with fear and no thoughts but to survive and kill.

your brother kept you safe for as long as he could, that was a mistake. you wish he would have ditched you, to fend for yourself, but he stuck by your side like a leech, ultimately leading to his death.

him or you, and he wanted it to be you.

“i always thought you were so brilliant, even at such a young age,” you were twelve, he was seventeen. you were too young, you had life left to live, therefore you did not deserve to die. “and you grew up… wonderfully.”

“stop,” you shook your head, shook the memories and red images from your mind, “stop talking.”

he did. he leaned back, watching you think. watching you struggle within your own head to come back to reality, to find yourself again. he found it amusing, watching your skin crawl from where you sat.

“he’d be so proud of you, rafe,” he smiled at the visible sudden stiffness in your body. “everything you’ve came to be.”

“don’t say say his name,” you shoved yourself up, hauling towards his seat. “you do not get to say his name.”

he shifts and you swear you see a look of uncomfortableness strike his eyes, looking you up and down, observing the anger that radiated off your skin. you wanted to kill him, you wanted him to feel pain.

“he is dead because of you. you don’t get to say his name when you don’t know what he went through, what i went through,” you were leaned over him, clenching your fists, clenching around a blade.

you wanted to kill him. you were going to kill him.

you pulled the silver knife from your sleeve, pushing it to his throat, “i want you to feel it.”

he smiled beneath the pain, his fine white teeth staining with red as blood seeped up from his throat, looking up to you, daring, not believing that you’d do it, “oh, y/n, if you couldn’t do it then, you can’t do it now.”

“watch me.”

**

he knew.

you didn’t know how but it seemed the moment you walked out of that greenhouse, his eyes were on you and he was tracking you down as you tried your best to get away from the scene, unnoticed—which didn’t work out.

“what’d he say to you?”

“does it matter?”

his body was practically shoved against yours as you tried your best to keep walking, hopefully toward an exit. but he was making it difficult, he always did, but you couldn’t blame him; you were a walking hazard when mad, especially now after the rebellion had fully absorbed panem.

everything was off and the sudden break from routine and fear of the capitol eyes watching you; it was weird and you couldn’t help but be weary of something bad happening.

“no,” he mumbled, grabbing onto your forearm to slow you and pull you away from other onlooking eyes, “but i would like to know what led to you having blood on your hand.”

you clenched your jaw hard as he now had your hand pulled up, showing the crimson colored liquid staining your hand. an aching feeling overcoming every part of your body as the look on finnick’s face begun to get to you, “don’t.”

“don’t what?” his voice was low, his eyes beginning to haunt you with a look asking you something that he wasn’t going to speak aloud; what have you done?

he couldn’t protect you from this. what you had just done, was not something to come back from. he couldn’t understand why. all you had to do was wait, just wait and the whole situation would have taken care of itself.

“he was going to die anyways,” you pulled your wrist from his grip, continuing to walk away, hoping he wouldn’t follow.

“it wasn’t your job to do it,” but of course, he strides after you. “it was planned, y/n, coin is not going to-”

“let me have this, finnick,” you turned fast to face him with anger still built up and ready to spill, “the only thing they’re going to be mad about is the fact that they didn’t get a show like they’re always fucking given. including coin.”

“she’ll have your head.”

“she’ll stay away from me. coin is just as bad as snow, and you know it.”

he stayed silent, his eyes wandering from your face as he thought. you were right. the bombing at the capitol gates single handedly showed that coin was as power hungry as snow and it didn’t matter if it costed lives.

“i can’t save you from this.”

“i don’t need you to saveme, finnick.”

lie. you both knew it.

since the day you met finnick he had been saving your ass, even if you didn’t need it.

many times from snow trying to profit off your body, many times in the eyes of aggressive capitol people and lurking faces, many times within the arena, and during the rebellion.

he kept watchful eyes on you ever since your youthful face replaced his prideful accomplishment of youngest winning victor of the hunger games.

“look, even if snow’s life ended the same, his killing was meant for a crowd,” his voice was a whisper as he pushed you slowly inside and against a wall. “it was going to be coin’s big introduction with katniss doing what she does best. you took that away, if she is anything like snow, you know that won’t go unpunished.”

“what’re you trying to say?”

“you need to leave.”

“then let go.”

he internally winced, wishing he could do more for you other than amp up your fight or flight reflexes. he didn’t want to leave you hanging, leave you to their jaws.

“finn,” you yanked at his sleeve lightly, “you need to let me go.”

his body hovered over you, seeming so out of it—drunk. his aroma was throwing you off, you just had to get away, because if you didn’t now, you probably wouldn’t anytime soon.

“promise me something then.”

you exhaled, blinking up through your lashes, “what?”

“live long enough to let me save you at least one more time?”

navigation

@transias@cc13723things@thehuntress09@demigirl-with-problems

Character dorm rooms part 170:

: You and Peeta have finally found some semblance of peace after the games and the war.

: 923

: None

For the first time in weeks, rain woke you from your slumber instead of horrific, vivid nightmares of your time in the arenas. The ones from the Quarter Quell seemed to be worse than your ones from the first games, but they were insufferable either way. Peeta was asleep in his own bed but you both left your doors wide open in case either of you needed comfort during the night, so you crept down the staircase as quietly as you could. In the kitchen, you set about boiling some water for herbal tea, stopping every ten seconds to yawn. It was much earlier than you realised - just gone 5am - and through the kitchen window you saw the sun determined to rise over the Victor’s Village in District 12, pushing through the grey storm clouds with an almost enviable amount of force. Once your tea was ready, you padded through the hallway and to the front door, which you flung open, letting the fresh air and scent of rain engulf your senses. You loved storms, so you set your tea down on the doorstep and sat down with your back against the doorframe to watch.

You had no idea how long you sat there watching the rain, but when Peeta appeared above you, he startled you.

“Sorry,” He said softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay,” He was in plaid pyjamas and his warm dressing gown, rubbing the sleep from the inner corners of his eyes. You patted the space opposite you. “Join me?”
“Sure,” He smiled.

For a while the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the rain being the only sound to be heard. The last few months had been the calmest of your whole life, the months that you should have had after the seventy-fourth Hunger Games; this was how things should have been all along, before the Quarter Quell and the revolution, before everything got turned totally upside down. Or maybe they really got turned the right way up. You still hadn’t sorted through the mass of feelings you had about the events of the last few years, but the one thing you had sorted through were your feelings towards the boy with the bread. Most mornings, you woke up and cursed yourself for not figuring things out sooner, for not realising that your feelings for him were the furthest from an act that anything could possibly be. You were still trying to decide how to tell him this, even though it was clear that he already knew. The love that you two shared was an unspoken rule, your safe place - it was home. Since rescuing him from the Capitol all those months ago, this had been pretty obvious, but you still wanted to apologise for all those times you made it out to be one-sided.

“How come you’re awake so early?” Peeta asked. “Did you have a nightmare?”
“No, the storm woke me up,” You explained. “How come you’re awake so early?”
He shrugged. “I woke up and noticed you weren’t in your bed, so I thought I’d better check on you.”
“You know I’d have come to you if it was a nightmare,” You assured him. “I always do.”
“I know.”

The sun was well above the horizon now, shining down on District 12 and making the puddles glisten in its light. The rain had yet to cease, however, which resulted in a beautiful rainbow. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Peeta stood and took both of your hands in his, pulling you up with him. He led you out onto the front steps so you could get a better view of the rainbow; the stone was cold beneath your feet, but you didn’t care in the slightest.

“That smile looks good on you,” Peeta murmured.

You turned to face him. You always thought he looked best in the mornings when sleep still danced behind his brilliant blue eyes and he had yet to run a comb through his blonde hair. He was smiling too - grinning like a fool, actually - and your heart raced within your chest at the sight of the boy in front of you. After the Quarter Quell when he was taken from you, you vowed to never take advantage of him ever again, so every day you reminded yourself to be grateful; for his safety, for his love, for him. You looped your arms around his neck and rubbed your nose against his, forcing yourself to wait for the sweet release that would be his lips against yours. There was no reason for you to rush this moment, but Peeta apparently couldn’t wait because before long he was pressing his soft lips against yours. You could still feel his smile.

You never wanted the moment to end. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and lifted you up, spinning you around in a circle without breaking this kiss. When he set you down gently, you were standing on his socked feet. You’d only done this once - in the kitchen - but it had made your heart melt then, too. He started to move slowly while holding you tight, dancing for the both of you so your feet wouldn’t get cold on the steps. There were no words to describe how much love you felt for him in that moment; in every moment.

“This is our future,” He whispered into your ear. “Real or not real?”
You kissed him again. “Real.” You said against his lips. “Real, real, real.”

More than just a piece in their games ♥️

Katniss & Peeta | I’d Let You Win